Nevermore
by 4getfulimaginator
Summary: When Hook captures Princess Emma and locks her on his ship, he becomes besotted with her and is determined to make her yield to him in every way. Depressed, Emma starts to sing, mesmerizing Hook with her wondrous voice. Can the Captain love again and break his own curse, or will he forever cage his Emma bird? Captain Swan AU, no curse, dark!Hook, Enchanted Forest & Neverland.
1. Chapter 1 - Freedom Lost

**A/N: Based on a Tumblr prompt by **_Kazetsume_**. Written for CS AU month and because I've been dying to write a five-shot about this. For this chapter, I've especially incorporated some events from the season 2 episode "Queen of Hearts" but made them AU. Off we go...**

* * *

_But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,_

_That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour._

_Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered –_

_Till I scarcely more than muttered, `Other friends have flown before –_

_On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'_

_Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'_

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

Even the town drunkards had heard of her ― golden like rising sunshine, fiery like the tongues of a crackling flame. She was considered a radiant beauty, intelligent and brave and _pungent ― _a colorful songbird that delighted in taking flight, that reveled in being free. The offspring of Prince Charming and Snow White, true love personified.

But he had seen many women ― _and once you've seen one, you've seen them all_, he scoffed. _What could be any different about this one?_

For beyond three hundred years, he had witnessed countless settings of the moon and sun, felt the whiplash of the wind and the salty sting of seawater more than he could fathom. He had become a timeless being, first consumed by love and then by hatred. The change was irrefutable and deadly.

It was, without a doubt, his undoing. First, he had schemed and plotted endlessly how to kill his immortal nemesis. Then after the deed was executed, the cringing bastard turned into a rotting corpse drained of magic, he had a new enemy: _himself_.

Never any peace. Not one instant. Never. He had lost his old identities.

He was the new Dark One, his true name inscribed on that bloody dagger. Oh, how he had screamed and yelled at the damned device, dragging rocks and knives in an attempt to scrape the inscription off of the tarnished metal. But it hadn't been any use. Of bleeding course not. The darkest magic now polluted his veins, coursing through like a damned river. Every day, he desperately grasped at Killian Jones, that piece of his soul he had so despised as Hook ― he needed to revive the best of himself, or he would perish in the midst of the worst of himself. The darkness within was swallowing him whole, and he was helpless to stop it. He could only attempt to end it, since he was so bleeding clever at destroying things...

Gone was the witty, dashing pirate, so confident and sure. This creature he was...it was twisted and ugly and disgusting, bringing his vices to the surface. And he hated it...hated every bit, every last fiber. Captain Hook had been a villain, but never a monster.

Dedicated once to revenge for the sake of his love, now he was condemned to find a cure to his new disposition or die trying...which is why he was listening to these daft fools and preparing to make quite an entrance into the neighboring castle.

Hopefully, the prisoner was still alive, or all would be for naught. After all, just because Hook was the Dark One, it did not mean he could not be killed...

And by God's name, he wanted to live. If there was one thing that was more important to him than revenge, it was his life.

* * *

Five years. _Five years_. Five years of never kissing her parents goodnight, of never seeing her homeland bathed in sun and rain. Five years of life lost, life utterly _wasted_ ― all because she was chained to this hell of a cell, doomed to see light only through the holes of a tiny barred window. She was filthy, humiliated, broken, miserable, and _dying_. Dying every single day, withering away like a flower without air. And the heartache...it was growing, nightmare after nightmare, shattered dream after shattered dream. This was a blackened hole, an abyss ― and God, she was falling. Flailing. _Failing_.

"And how is my precious savior this afternoon, hmm?" A low voice chuckled, cruel and taunting. Emma rolled her eyes and turned her back to the wall. She had no desire to speak to _her_.

When Regina entered the moonlight, a chill swept through the air, making the princess shiver. "Come now," the Evil Queen prodded, "you must be _aching_ for some conversation. Don't you tire of talking to the wall?"

Clenched, trembling limbs. Gritted teeth. A gnawing rush of fire that scorched her very bones. How she wanted to wrap her hands around that witch's neck and―

"Bloodlust doesn't suit your complexion, dear." Regina was just in front of her, conveniently out of the reach of her writhing, manacled hands. A smirk crossed her lips, widening on seeing Emma struggle against her restraints like a wild animal seeking its prey.

"What do you want from me, Regina?" she gasped out when her body began to weaken, its energy and strength spent. "Why do you keep me here, year after year? Haven't you punished me enough ― punished my parents enough?"

The Evil Queen only scrutinized her, her expression dark and unreadable. "I imagine you know the story―"

"―and you know it as well. A little girl whispered a secret in an act of goodwill. A mother manipulated a child to break her daughter's heart. A queen was crowned and a demonic witch was born because you blamed the wrong person and swore revenge against an innocent―"

Regina was squeezing her neck, fingers digging into her skin painfully and bruising her throat until she couldn't breathe. She looked murderous. "Snow was never innocent," she snarled. "Your mother caused my unhappiness ― and for that, she will pay. How better than to watch her own daughter die in her former home, alone and forgotten, the perfect Savior destined to never restore happy endings?"

"_Never_." Emma was biting down on her bottom lip so hard that she could taste blood. "My parents will never forget me." She couldn't move under the Queen's magical grip.

"And during the last five years, they haven't attempted to rescue you even once?" She tsked mockingly, roughly throwing the girl onto the ground. "What a poor show of love."

"I could say the same about you," she snapped back, growling under her breath. "Somehow, you never found anyone else to love you after Daniel."

A loud crack filled the empty space, leaving Emma with a burning, reddening cheek. "_Don't say his name_," Regina hissed menacingly. "You insolent palace brat ― you know _nothing_ about me. And I swear: you will remain in this cell until your bones are all that is left of you."

* * *

It was damn easy. Too easy. According to all he had heard of the Evil Queen, her security system should have been more severe and not so...lax. In less than an hour, he had scaled the castle walls, broken into an empty storage room, and killed enough of Regina's guards to piss Her Royal Highness off. _Some bloody army she had_, he muttered to himself as he used his hook to fiddle with the lock. It would be faster to magically open the damn thing, but it was best for the latent pirate to be at work inside the powerful sorceress' habitat ― being the Dark One in full form would only endanger him further.

Violently twisting and turning the tip inside, it was with a dramatic grunt and shove that Hook nearly was sprawled across the floor of the cell from the force of his push, the door closing silently behind him. But it was the sight before him that left him winded, his lungs bereft of air from shock and amazement.

The girl sitting on the cot was dressed in rags, her blonde locks dirty and unkempt. Her eyes, blue-green sparkling like turquoise and emerald, were staring at him in fear and a hint of interest, but her instincts eventually won over her curiosity as she pulled away from him, her back hitting the stone wall.

She appeared to be malnourished, maltreated, and wretched. Still, even in that state, she was exactly as the legends said and even more magnificent in the flesh than he had ever believed to be possible. He had visited many kingdoms, viewed many princesses ― but Princess Emma Swan was the first he had ever _wanted_ to bow down to, to pay homage to. Every feature she possessed was worthy of worship.

"Who are you?" She was eyeing him warily, legs carefully tucked under her lap. When he rose to his feet, swinging the fur cape he had donned to its correct positioning, she drew back even further.

"Don't be afraid, lass." He tried to eliminate the sinister tone that rang out in his voice, but the best he got was a slippery sound that almost resembled a soft drawl. "I'm here to rescue you, to take you from this horrible place." Reaching a hand into the pocket of his trousers, he yanked out the set of keys he had stolen, dangling them in front of her.

She only raised an eyebrow, her gaze cold. "From one prison into another, I take it."

He sighed inwardly, peeking backwards and listening hard to see if his presence had been discovered yet. Propelling himself onto his knees beneath her, he took some pleasure in how her jaw dropped as he began to unlock her cuffs. "Try something new, darling ― it's called trust."

When she immediately rubbed her chaffed wrists, her silence foreboding resistance, he began to work on the manacles hindering her feet. "Look, love ― I don't have time to explain to you my motives, but we'll talk when we're on the _Jolly_, savvy?"

She glanced at him quickly. "The _Jolly Roger_? Your ship?"

He nodded, giving her a tentative smile. He sincerely hoped it didn't look like a malicious grimace. "Aye."

"And you're...you're Hook? _Captain_ Hook?"

He grinned gleefully. "Ah, so you've heard of me?"

Standing tall, the top of Emma Swan's head only reached his chin, but the lack of expression and emotion in her face was making him think her looks belied the true measure of her stature and gumption. "Oh, I've heard of you indeed," she whispered.

When he motioned for her to go, she hesitated, her eyes on the floor. He reached out, trying hard to be a gentleman and help her when the bastard in him was impatiently demanding she get a damn move on ― and then she struck. His dagger was wrenched from its scabbard and placed threateningly against his throat in under a minute, her hold on him surprisingly strong for one so weak. Well, for a skinny woman who had endured five years of containment, living on bread and water. _ Damn her._

"I know my parents would never send a former pirate, let alone the Dark One, to save me," she spat disgustedly, "so what do you have to gain from my release, _Hook_?

He gulped, wondering how he could be afraid when he was in fact immortal and her knife was powerless―

In an instant, magic surged from his fingertips as he regained his senses, Emma flung against the wall and his dagger torn from her hands. Fury blossomed into a massive storm, flinging any remnants of Killian Jones out the sodding window. He was the bloody _Dark One_ ― he didn't need to answer to some twit of a girl.

"Thank you," he replied bitterly, "for reminding me what I'm all about."

Emma was unconscious, a streak of blood lining her scalp and forehead. _And he cared less._ The darkness inside him was laughing. A princess defying the Dark One ― pathetic.

Scooping her motionless body into his arms, he took one step toward the door, pausing. The task was complete, so why should he creep in the shadows like some idiotic minion? This was his mission, his idea. He would hide no longer.

Peering down at Emma, a sudden temptation overwhelmed him, and he was stroking strands of hair from her face, wiping away the drops of blood he had caused. A slight feeling of remorse crossed his mind, but he disregarded it. She was the means to an end ― nothing more.

Summoning every ounce of power, Hook held tightly onto his prize as the prison faded, the walls brightening until they were gone.

His toil was now over. What was going to happen next would be...more _enjoyable_, to say the least.

Gradually, eventually...this golden songbird would chirp.

* * *

**A/N: And now we're on a roll. Review?**


	2. Chapter 2 - Let Us Begin

**A/N: First off, thank you all for your splendid support here and on Tumblr! I'm sorry for the delay ― I was working hard on my other CS AU fic, **_One Against the Wind_**. Also, the quotes from "The Raven" are not going to be given in chronological order according to the poem. **

**Now, on with the story, shall we?**

**(Oh, I forgot the disclaimer in the first chapter, so here it is...)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. The original plot prompt belongs to **_Kazetsume_**, and OUAT belongs to Disney & ABC.**

* * *

_Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,_

_Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before._

_`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;_

_Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore –_

_Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –_

_'Tis the wind and nothing more!'_

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

The blackness was eating her, threatening to tear her eyes from her head until she saw nothing and screamed from pain, anger, and fear. _Fear. _It killed her inside to admit that someone like the Evil Queen could, for once, be right. Perhaps that was why she was being punished now, her head throbbing and every piece of her flesh boiling.

That was all she was now: pain and anger and fear. At first, when she had crawled to the thick stones of her prison and willed the cracks between to break her free, she had had hope her parents would come find her. _We will always find you_, her mother had told her every time she had gotten lost in the woods or had hidden in the castle.

But this time, they had not. She had been drained and abused by her captor, her willpower broken until she could barely decide whether her nightmares or reality were the greater horror. She had witnessed her own torture, from the growing inward despair in her heart that she had been abandoned by those she loved to the mistreatment of her body by the whip, the knife, and magic itself. She had cried herself to sleep every night until there were no more tears, only a dull ache spread by the numbness in her limbs.

Worse of all, the doubts that had been biting at her were exacerbated by her confusion at her own emotions. Now when she pictured her parents, she felt nothing ― not love or loyalty or faith or hope. _Nothing_. It was cold indifference, and it frightened her beyond belief, that a part of her soul was running away, never to return. It was different to choose to hide your feelings, but to not feel anything at all?

More than anything, Emma feared that she was made of stone, as heartless as if Regina had literally taken the beating organ from her chest and hidden it in some dark box. Deep in her dreams, she tried to capture what she had lost, to find what she was desperately seeking. Memories filled with breathless love reached out to her, but they were carried off by the wind of awakening, that restless whisper that made you helplessly realize it was time to leave sleep behind.

If this was life...if this was reality...if this was her curse...may she never awaken.

_From one prison into another. _Was she no better than the Evil Queen herself, that she was untouched by all but that which she hated most?

Fighting and clawing against the weight bearing down on every inch of her body, Emma's eyes snapped open suddenly, the waxing light drawing a muffled whimper from her lips.

She was determined not to cry anymore. But when she saw her surroundings, longing pierced her skin and sank into its depths, dragging a pained scream from the very core of her soul.

She wasn't home. Nor was she free.

She was in hell.

_Never let me wake. Let me go._

* * *

"Cap'n, she's burning up ― if she keeps on so, she'll suffocate from the inside out!"

"Nonsense, Mr. Smee," Hook snapped, pouring a generous amount of rum from a decanter into a crystalline glass. "Kindly recall you are no doctor ― she's in a delirium, 'tis all. When her fever breaks, she'll be ready to talk." Dismissing his first mate with an absent wave of his hand, he glanced up and down Emma's curvaceous form, noting how luscious it looked, clothed in his finery.

Her new scarlet red nightgown, the front parting dramatically to a pure white underlay, reminded him of carnations and peonies, their vibrant colors and rich folds hinting at the softness and flavor within. And in the case of his royal Swan, she was every inch as..._appetizing_ as her appearance stated. She was a yellow rose enveloped by colors of earth and sky.

Every fiber of his self-control and patience was severely tried when he first saw her bare body while undressing it from the demeaning rags Regina had provided, not willing to trust any of his crew to this task. No, they would debase Emma ― only a gentleman could ensure that her virtue would stay intact despite everything.

But that was becoming more and more difficult with every passing day, and Hook found himself unusually surprised by this turn of events.

At first, he had worried that this would be a discouraging task, that what he sought would be hard to tolerate. Admiring the features of the golden sleeping beauty before him, he smirked at his foolish notions. After wiping away the dust and dirt from her face and then washing her hair, he had realized Emma was a vision come down from paradise to torment men like him...no, evil beasts like him, who could only secretly hope for a taste of sunshine while hiding in midnight darkness. However, there could be no doubt that this pure white Swan was now safely in his custody. The real challenge ― one he was looking forward to ― would be making her his.

If she succumbed...if she touched him...she would be consumed. And then he would be free. It mattered not what she felt or if she hated him, was repulsed by him, fought against him: he would have his revenge complete and live to tell of it, to laugh at Rumplestiltskin's ghost when he survived this ordeal.

No magic could chain him to a dagger of power forever. He had learned centuries ago that power, tempting and provocative, was much like lust and passion: it was a drug, addictive and crippling. It poisoned you until you could only dream of that, only want that.

And Hook ― well, at the heart, Killian Jones ― had only ever wanted one thing: love. But life had soon taught him differently, and now he wanted to escape from it all.

As far as he was concerned, this princess was a necessary evil, however beautiful ― and soon, this trial would be over.

* * *

There was the dullness that comes after being burnt, the scars of fire creating a trail of pain along the surface of skin. But she was determined to pull through.

Gritting her teeth as she raised herself up on the palms of her hands on something very fluffy, Emma swayed weakly before daring to lift her eyelids. She could smell a piquant odor, sharp and mellow, and then the ever familiar smell of cedar wood. Was she in a tavern?

Obviously not. Memories came back, of when she would visit the tavern with the Seven Dwarves, singing and laughing as they ordered ale after a long day growing magic beans in the royal fields. Anton, the last of the giants, would accompany them, now an adopted part of their family after Regina's mother, Cora, had shrunk him down to human size during one of her manipulative games. Thank goodness Rumplestiltskin had defeated her before he had passed on...

"Ah, you're awake!" She barely had time to discern whom the voice belonged to before the door of the room loudly slammed shut, leaving her alone.

On further inspection, she realized she was in a cabin ― judging by its size, the captain's personal quarters. Lavish curtains, a massive bed, fine rugs, polished furniture...surely the captain was no ascetic. The soft rustling of fabric against her skin made her very aware of the fact that someone must have dressed her in new attire... One moment she was thrilled; the next, she was horrified.

Blinking rapidly when the door opened once more, a dark figure sliding through the entrance, she squinted hard, trying to figure out who her new visitor was. _Hook_.

"Welcome to the _Jolly Roger_, milady." His voice was smooth and sensuous, creating shivers up and down her spine. Never had she seen such an enthralling man, even throughout the depths of the Enchanted Forest. He had eyes that spoke of the soul, a body that reflected the work of the sea, and a presence that ultimately terrified her, like it had from the very first in that dreadful cell. And Emma Swan was rarely afraid of anything.

She eyed him up and down without saying a word, much like he was doing her, and finally dared to ask, "And what do you want with me, Captain Hook?"

He tsked, a dark grin marring his handsome features. "What a gutsy lass ― but luckily for you, I like that in a woman."

"Take me home." He had nothing to gain from her capture ― her parents believed her to be dead. She cleared her throat, growing dizzy again. "Take me home, and you will be rewarded."

He strutted forward until he was face to face with her, looking all too predatory. "What makes you think I want any reward?" he murmured, licking his lips and gazing at her wantonly. "I'm the Dark One ― I can summon anything I desire."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're also a pirate ― gold will always call to you. I'm assuming you know who I am, so you must also know where I'm from. If you have any honor at all―"

"That's it, darling: you've hit the nail right on the head. I have no honor...well, not anymore. This is how it works on my ship: I make the demands, you follow them. Therefore, you will be my guest ― or my prisoner, whichever you prefer ― until I have what I want."

Emma froze, forcing herself to keep talking. "What do you want?" she repeated, deadly quiet. "What could the Dark One possibly want from me that he cannot create?"

Hook reached out to stroke her hair and her face, smiling even when she pulled away from him. "There is a prophecy: 'When Light chooses Dark and Dark merges with the Light, one who is lost will be saved.'"

"Haven't you ever heard of personal space before?" she grumbled, more focused on eradicating his errant touch than listening to his suave words. However, the moment he ceased speaking was when she absorbed what he had just said. "Wait... What do I have to do with any of this?"

He raised a brow mockingly. "Why Princess, how clumsy of me to not set the record straight," he sneered. "You're the product of True Love ― by all accounts, _you_ are the Light which I seek. I was told to find you."

"By whom?" she snapped.

"An old friend," he replied nonchalantly, "who could see the future. It may comfort you to know that his last thoughts were of you."

Chills racked her body, and she curled further into the blankets. His cryptic explanations was causing her nerves to tingle, and she didn't like it. Somewhere in the midst of his enigmatic statements were the answers she sought to questions she had to ask ― but a tight feeling of dread assured her that honestly, she did not want to find them. Knowing the truth would hurt more than staying ignorant. Still, that didn't stop her from wanting to know. She had heard enough of Hook's backstory to put the pieces together ― and the whole of it frightened her.

"I choose Dark? Dark merges with me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she spat out as bravely as she could, her throat growing dry as she became increasingly aware of Hook's proximity. He smelled of danger, death, and desperation. All three were intoxicating.

He only smirked, his eyes darkening. An aura of power seemed to embolden him as he violently ripped the blanket away from her, exposing her bare legs to the light. "Isn't it obvious, darling? A few more hours in my company, and you will never doubt again that I'm the Dark."

Emma tried to scream, but she was too dehydrated, and her muscles were weak. She was too much in shock to talk back, to argue, to fight. Vainly struggling, she resisted to the best of her ability when Hook grabbed her arms and yanked her forward, literally hooking her hands together while his only one cupped the back of her neck.

"Look at me," he commanded after she turned her face away. When she refused to obey, he forced her to do so until his lips were almost caressing hers. "Do you realize how beauty like yours can drive mere men to madness? How craving to touch such soft skin...taste such tempting lips...feel flesh against flesh with such warmth and heat...can bring even the Dark One to his knees?"

He brushed his lips over her jawline, pleased by her trembling while his hand traveled all over her body, daring to venture everywhere. "I promise you, Emma Swan, that I will return the gesture. Make no mistake that you _will_ be mine ― even if I have to use every last ounce of my magic to do so."

She wanted to be numb. She wanted to firmly say that the way he was exploring every inch of her skin wasn't effecting her, that he didn't leave a trail of fire and ice in its wake. Finally, she dared to admit that however repulsed she was by his vow, by his touch, there was a part of her that whispered she was still human and susceptible to desire. Disgusted by this conclusion, she grappled with Hook frantically, struck motionless when he lowered his head and placed a searing kiss above her heart, sampling her with his tongue.

Pushing him away made him hold onto her harder, his mouth now tracing the curves of her throat. "Stop this ― stop it!" she cried out, wresting her arms from his grip and attempting to flee the bed. Hesitating for an instant, like a hunter analyzing his prey, Hook smiled lustfully before standing up and cornering her.

When she raised her hand to slap his cheek, he gesticulated with his fingers and she was frozen, unable to move as tendrils of purple smoke hindered her freedom. Running his hand from her right shoulder down to her hips, he stared shamelessly at her, his eyes piercing her soul.

"It's nothing personal, love ― it's destiny. You were fated to join me, and I have every intention of keeping you."

Tears fell, and she bit her lip to hold back sobs. "But you don't love me ― you just want to use me. How can Light choose Dark when you imprison me here?"

He laughed bitterly. "Lass, I do not have the luxury of waiting for your affection, especially when I am aware it was out of my reach to begin with. Furthermore, I don't want your love, nor do I need it." He groped her thigh meaningfully under her nightgown, stroking it slowly up and down.

"The prophecy only mentions that I must take you willingly ― and willingly you shall. I will make you beg for me," he whispered huskily, "when you're sick of merely lying next to me night after night, trapped in my embrace. I will make you suffer when I help you bathe and dress, nothing hidden to my sight. I will torment you day after day with the thought that you lost your freedom to me ― and that the sole way to regain it is to yield to me. And I will wait patiently until you give yourself to me."

Emma gasped, closing her eyes and shutting out the image of his longing expression, the raw hunger there matching his wanton threats. "Why take me from Regina when you want to torture me more severely than she ever could?" she said brokenly. "I've never done you any harm ― I'm inn―"

"Nothing is innocent," he punctuated coldly. Gazing at her intently, he suddenly crushed his lips onto hers, reveling in her squirming by deepening the kiss and then withdrawing from her just as quickly. "That is a taste ― of the future," he added darkly, waving his hand to release her from his spell. She fell onto the floor, choking and sputtering. Lifting her head slowly, she glared at him with as much hatred as she could possibly emit in one glance.

Winking and licking his lips lewdly, he declared sultrily, "Sweet dreams, my Swan ― only in sleep can you rob me of your charming company, but rest well, knowing that I will dream of you as well." Bowing pretentiously, he swept out of the room, his chuckles echoing through the wood of the chamber when she pounded against the magically locked door.

"Remember, Swan," his deep voice called out before the sound of it gradually faded away, "you belong to _me_ now, and there is no escape for anyone from the Dark One. So heed my advice: do not try."

Cursing under her breath, Emma swore to herself that she would...or die.

* * *

"Mr. Smee." Hook took his stance behind the helm, the pain contorting his features gone as soon as it had come. His humanity was resurfacing all too readily when he was around the girl, and the darkness within did not approve. "Prepare to set sail and ready the crew ― we have quite the journey ahead of us."

Nodding, the small quivering man bumbled down to the lower deck, pausing before he descended. "Where are we headed, Captain?"

He flashed his hook, eyes set on the horizon. "Neverland," he murmured, fingering the swan locket Emma had worn around her neck when he had found her in the Evil Queen's castle.

He would never forget what he had set out to accomplish. Proud, relentless, stubborn ― the lass was much like Milah, but his love had certainly been no swan. She was strong, but not strong enough. Emma Swan evidently was stronger. When faced with impossible odds she could not overcome, she did not surrender. _But how long would she hold out against her new cage?_, he wondered.

Ah, that was irrelevant. This curse had to end, no matter the cost ― and he would ensure that it did, even if it meant breaking her spirit.

* * *

**A/N: This fic was written in honor of CS AU month, but I'll probably be finishing it up sometime in October. Each chapter will be circa 3000 words: the next two will focus on the heart of the story, and the final one will bring all plot threads to a satisfying close.**

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Bittersweet

**A/N: Warning ― there is some M-rated material and triggers in the beginning of this chapter, though nothing graphic or explicit. However, no worries ― this fic's staying a solid T for now, with the possibility of the rating going up to M for the fifth and final chapter.**

**Well, are you ready? Good. Down the rabbit hole we fall...**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. The original plot prompt belongs to **_Kazetsume_**, and OUAT belongs to Disney & ABC.**

* * *

_This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing_

_To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;_

_This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining_

_On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,_

_But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,_

_She shall press, ah, nevermore!_

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

_She knew it was a dream, erotic and compelling. It had to be. And yet...it didn't feel like something her mind had conjured from the depths of her imagination. Even though her senses weren't responding and her bodily reactions were out of her control, she still didn't believe that it all wasn't real. How could she, when he was doing all manner of wicked things to her and she was helpless to resist?_

_This was all wrong. It looked wrong, but it felt right. The image was muddled, but her emotions were clear. Or were they? It was the prevalent curse of dreams, that nothing in them ever made sense and yet you understood them while you lived them...for the dream world was very much like another life, showing you possibilities and the paths you did not want to take, a conundrum of alternate realities._

_His tongue was stroking hers sensually, his teeth nipping at her lips when she fought his touch. His hand was burning her skin, seeking every part of her at once. But most frightening and penetrating were his eyes, shards of ice striking at her core. They never left her face, even when he reached behind with his hook to tear open the back of her dress. _

_Then he was pressing himself against her, insistent as ever, and when she pulled back, a flick of his wrist and a veil of purplish smoke unclothed her entirely. She knew she was flushing from head to toe, mortified and scared beyond reason, desperately praying she would somehow be miraculously transported to her safe bedroom in her parents' castle. _

_But she wasn't. And Hook's desires for her were far from over._

_He was admiring his handiwork, his gaze darkened to a midnight blue as he stared hard at her. When she covered her bare breasts by crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt at modesty, he smirked, waving his hand once more. What she saw made her look away instantly, ashamed and horrified. She could not believe this was happening to her. It had to be a twisted nightmare, not reality._

_There was no denying that Hook was a very handsome man, Dark One or not, but to see him in the nude was making Emma nauseous. She had grown up, more or less, in an environment where innocence and purity were praised, virtue extolled. To see Hook's intentions regarding her so physically manifested as he stood before her, nearly panting and wetting his lips in anticipation, was inviting fear to her doorstep._

"_Do you not see how much I want you, Emma?" he murmured, threading his fingers through her hair. He was so close to her that she could almost feel his skin brushing hers, his breath fanning her face._

"_Please don't do this," she implored, turning from him and closing her eyes in a final wish that all would fade away as bad dreams should._

_In a surprisingly gentle gesture, he uncrossed her arms and drew her near, taking her hand in his and tendering kissing her palm before placing it on his bare chest. "Do not conceal such beauty, love ― never be ashamed of it."_

_She wanted relief, but it quickly evaded her when she saw him leading her lower and lower, encouraging her to cup him in her hand. "You see, darling? This is proof of how much you affect me," he groaned, rubbing against her fingers wantonly. She flinched, wanting to run. To hide. To disappear. But again, when she tried to turn her back on him, he immediately retaliated, grabbing her violently. Then she was sitting on a bed ― what bed? ― and he was on his knees in front of her. Her feet and hands were tied with some kind of magical rope, and Hook was checking the knots._

"_Emma, Emma ― it would be so much easier if you just succumb to me, lass. Think of the pleasure I can bring you ― God, you have no idea how the sight of you like this arouses me," he rasped, trailing his fingertips down her neck. "Your flesh, so ready for my touch...my mouth..."_

_When their eyes met, she returned his bold gaze, glaring at him. "And you have no idea how much I loathe you ― how much I wish that―"_

_Pulling her head forward, he silenced her with a possessive, fierce kiss, challenging her not to moan as he drew her down onto his lap. But she was strong, and she was determined to stay strong... _

_However, it was when his lips were marking every inch of her neck and chest that she came undone, her willpower gone. Her restraints had somehow vanished into thin air, and she was entangling her newly freed fingers in his dark hair, holding him close as he intensely savored her breasts, his hungry mouth showing her that she needed this. Her thighs were throbbing, her heart was racing...she was excited, driven to the very edge. _

_But as Emma gasped and sighed when Hook vigorously continued to pleasure her, her response emboldening him further, she began to see through the haze of what could only be lust, animalistic and primal and reasonless. _

_Sanity seeped through the cracks of her hesitation, and she felt disgust push away carnal desire. Her reasoning came back with the force of a storm, nearly blowing her over with its strength._

_This was sickening, the way she was submitting to a man ― a monster ― who wanted to bed her and then throw her to the side like spoiled trash. No, _she_ was sickening, by even reacting to the touch of the Dark One, the embodiment of the blackest, most vile magic. Her kidnapper. Her enemy._

"_All magic comes with a price," Rumplestiltskin had always said ― and she was paying it right now. She was giving Hook what he wanted: her body. But she was bleeding her soul._

_When he wrapped his good arm around her back and tried to lay her down on the dark sheets of his bed, she kicked him away, suffering through his curses and yells after she actually drew blood from scratching at his skin with her nails. Then his hook was pointed at her throat, and he was hovering over her, his lower torso crushing hers. She could read every outline of his body now, and the shuddering of his limbs could only mean he was either very angry or very aroused. Or both._

"_What are you doing?" he hissed, glancing from her nipples, reddened and erect from his passionate worship, to her flushed face. With her hair spread out behind her, soft curls dancing about her shoulders, Emma saw desire grow to full stature in his eyes. And she knew this was the end._

"_I will not be yours ― I'll never be yours," she snarled vehemently, struggling in his arms. He only gave her an evil grin before lowering his face until his entire body was touching hers._

"_Oh yes, you will be, my feisty Swan ― right here and now," he huskily promised. "Let me show you..."_

_The knotted rope was back, and she was screaming as he ground his hips against hers before parting her thighs with his knee, his gaze smoldering and filled with relentless purpose as his hand gripped her waist..._

* * *

"No!" Her eyes snapping open, Emma sprang to her feet, collapsing when her weakened legs fell out from under her. The pain of her behind landing on the cold wooden floor woke her completely, and she realized that she was huddled in the one empty corner of Hook's chambers, her face covered with a thick sheen of sweat and her body shaking like a dead leaf tossed in the air by a cruel wind. The captain was nowhere to be seen, his bed empty, but the black satin sheets reminded her of all that had occurred while she was asleep...and she suddenly felt the urge to vomit, though the ship wasn't rocking to and fro and she normally was never seasick.

Usually, memories of her dreams wouldn't outlast the night, melting away in the morning light, but these were still vivid and branded onto her mind's eye ― and she couldn't escape the images that crowded it, demanding to be viewed. But Hook had specifically said that he would never take her by force, that she had to be willing...

Her dry throat wracked by a series of coughs, Emma clung to the bedpost as she raised herself to her feet, searching desperately for water. Some host the pirate claimed to be, leaving her parched and hungry and lost. Either she was his prisoner, condemned to the ship's brig, or she was his guest proper and worthy of care...

She nearly fell backwards on the bed when the door opened with a loud bang and the man himself strode into the room, each ominous click of his boots signaling that he was getting closer.

"God, lass," he exclaimed, his tone full of an emotion she could not place, "you're as white as a ghost. Did you not sleep well?"

Emma gazed at him ― Hook looked exactly as he had in her dream, and his physical perfection was unnerving in the face of his corrupted soul. As she prolonged her staring, the bare hint of concern in his eyes transformed into all-too knowing lust. "Or were you awake because you needed something?" he smirked, his black leather attire stretching over his lithe form as he leaned against the wall, leering at her in return.

There would be no point in telling him that she had cried herself to sleep, wanting the comfort and safety of her parents' embrace. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and dared to sound imperious ― well, as imperious as possible, under the circumstances. "As a matter of fact, I do need something: food and water, as appropriate for either your prisoner or your guest."

He laughed at her. "But of course, Princess," he drawled, waving his hand to create a veritable feast on the table before her.

Creeping slowly like a mouse might do in front of a cat, trying not to draw too much attention with any sudden movements, Emma reached out to touch the clusters of fine black grapes, the cheese and rolls near what appeared to be smoked ham and bacon on a platter. Fresh greens and fruits lay to the side, ornately arranged inside a golden cornucopia, and crystal pitchers held water and wine. It was lavish and seductive, the crimson tablecloth contrasted by white and silver, black and gold. The cutlery and fine plates shone like the sun, surrounded by napkins and wine glasses that reflected the light.

"All this? For me? How kind," she commented sarcastically, the venom in her voice losing its sting as she began to cough again.

The scent of spicy rum, saltwater, and ocean air became stronger when Hook was suddenly beside her, his deep breaths warming her neck. His closeness made her shudder. "You have no idea how much I could do for you, Emma," he whispered, magic lacing his tone so she could feel the sparks in the room, fire ready to burn.

"I'm afraid to find out," she muttered to herself, shakily pouring herself a glass of water. However, the erratic movement of Hook's hand clasping hers, silently offering to help with the task, took her off guard. The glass in her other hand dropped to the floor, a mind-numbing shatter. Instinctively, she bent her head, not daring to see fury and contempt on her captor's face on account of her clumsiness.

Whimpering as fatigue claimed her senses again, Emma knelt warily to the ground, wanting nothing more than to sink into it and disintegrate. But something held her back from grabbing the pieces of broken glass: a hand. Hook's hand, holding her upper arm firmly as he pulled her back up.

"I can take care of that." A flick of his finger, and the mess was gone, as it had never happened. "You're still weak from your occupancy in Regina's prison, I take it?"

His arms were keeping her from toppling over, keeping her near him as he aligned her body with his. "And from being in yours," she snapped, grimacing as everything hurt. It hurt to think, to move, to breathe, to _be_. If she were truly home...she would probably be bedridden for months, the extreme state of her exhaustion the toll added to her previous sacrifice.

His hand was caressing her cheek, his gaze soft and full of understanding. It was almost as if he had left the Dark One outside the room, now only a man who seemed capable of compassion. "You still don't see why, love?" he whispered, his lips by her ear.

She was drooping like a parched flower, wheezing and praying not to faint in his embrace. When she saw black spots in her vision, she tilted forward. "I'm going to be sick," she murmured, the pain in her tone making Hook frown in consideration. Narrowing his eyes for a brief moment, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed, gesturing for the sustenance he had prepared to follow.

The hatred she had for this disreputable pirate, this terror of a sorcerer, was nothing in comparison to the confusion that arose ― along with more dizziness ― when Hook decided to spoon-feed her. "I'm not hungry," she stated, stubbornly turning her face from his offerings. However, she drank deeply from the glass of water he brought forth, a slight smirk on his lips as he assisted her.

While he carefully ladled soup into a spoon and held it in front of her mouth, she peered at him through hooded lids. "Why are you doing this?" _Where was the indifferent beast who had taunted her just the other day, forcing his attentions on her and laughing at her protests?_

Hook gave her a beautiful, white smile, so opposite the darkness that waxed and waned in his gaze. The moon against the night sky, the stars in his eyes. "I may be the Dark One, lass, but I'd never take advantage of an ill woman, no matter how despicable I am," he whispered, taking a napkin to wipe away the sweat from her forehead. The way he stared at her, surprising kindness there, puzzled Emma more than ever. Who was he? _What _was he?

_He's a walking contradiction, beauty and ugliness intertwined, love and hatred bound. To separate his goodness from his evil would tear him asunder._

"I thought you said you cared less about me and more about getting me into your bed." She wanted to peer up at the ceiling, but even there his face appeared, the image haunting her. It was highly unsettling, what this man was doing to her.

"You _are_ in my bed," he grinned wryly, chuckling when she expressed her annoyance at the fact. However, he said nothing more, caring for her with more tenderness that she had ever believed of him. And she still couldn't believe it. _It must be some sort of sick jest, this change..._

There it was, the tattoo commemorating Milah still on his arm. And his hook, busy impaling a crude sort of layered sandwich on its tip by selecting a variety of breads, meats, cheeses, and vegetables... When he finished creating a cup of tea for her, he presented both in such a distinguished manner that the whole ordeal, a token of oddity, made her laugh. And then Emma felt herself smile against her will at his amused expression, blushing when he stroked her cheek like a lover would.

"So beautiful..."

She reflexively turned her face away, willing herself not to feel sorry for him, for the loss that had ultimately caused this man to become the Dark One. _But compassion is what makes us human and keeps us from turning into unfeeling stone..._ Looking down at her hands, which were tugging uneasily at the hem of the satin coverlet, she asked tentatively, "Have you finally realized that force is not the answer to all this?"

He merely tilted his head in reply, scrutinizing her. "I was hoping when I found you that I wouldn't be disappointed. Now I know that I'm not." Brushing hair away from her shoulders, his touch melted away her tear-soaked nightgown and transformed it into another, one of soft white and curving silver. "Behind that lovely face is brilliance and flame. However, the rumors did not do you justice, I fear."

"How so?" She could only concentrate on how the tea rippled, how the vittles disappeared as she slowly and methodically chewed them out of existence.

Hook leaned in close, eager and almost beaming for someone who had had the semblance of a thunderstorm the day before. "They failed to mention how you are more warrior than princess, siren than angel."

"Then it's my duty to warn you that flattery will get you nowhere, Captain," she replied curtly, rolling her eyes when he smirked. She could play along with his game of words, but she would only go so far.

"You underestimate me, darling ― we have all the time in the world, and I for one want nothing more than to be in your company."

"All the time in the world?" she scoffed. "You'll be old and gray before I yield to you."

Passing shadow obscuring former brightness, he visibly darkened at that mention. "Not quite, love. Where we are...time, age, change...well, they simply fail to exist."

All the bedtime stories she had ever heard about such a place where such things were possible were foremost in her mind, and their chilling presence was reeling her in, away from Hook. "You took me to Neverland," she stated icily, pushing herself as far back against the bed frame as possible, desperate to be out of his reach.

"Aye." He wasn't sorry at all...he must have planned this from the beginning, for his eyes did not bespeak any lies, only the depth of his deception.

_No wonder she had had such nightmares ― Neverland preyed on your darkest fears and deepest imagination, and it never wanted to let you leave._

She wasn't going to let him see her cry. Instead, she watched her enfolded hands, fixated on them in an attempt to ignore the figure sitting beside her. But Hook did not let that pass. Of course not.

"Why did the Evil Queen imprison you?"

She had not expected him to ask that. Perhaps a query about her lack of reaction to being in Neverland, but not _that_. He had said himself that he did not care about her, only about ending his curse; he disregarded how he had kidnapped her to another realm; and he had threatened her with the eventual possession of her body. Now he was trying to win her empathy. "I thought troubadours announced the tale often enough," Emma mumbled, blocking out persistent thoughts of her parents that continued to speak. _Don't forget us. Don't forget._

"But as you well know, it is the victors who get to tell the stories." Dark, sombre, menacing, forbidding, terrifying ― she could have picked any of these from a hat while blindfolded, and all of them would aptly describe the anguish, malice, and agony Hook exuded, his features strained. And worst of all, he had every right to be so, for she had heard his story ― but not the version he had expected. In her storybook, he was Killian Jones before he was Hook.

Emma shook her head sorrowfully, refusing to glance back at the past, but her captor was insisting, sapphires intently boring into her. When she could suffer his smoldering gaze no longer, she whispered, "My parents and I know of sacrifice. My mother and father paid dearly, and then, on my eighteenth birthday, I had to pay as well. And it was always Regina who exacted the price. Her hatred for my mother had no bounds." _Damn his curiosity. _ She couldn't stop the watering, the wetness that spilled over her cheeks down to her lap.

"But now, you will never have to pay that price again. You are free of Regina forevermore." He was caressing her jawline, a gentle flow of healing magic soothing her injuries inside and out.

Then, in a blind rage, she wanted it and its creator gone. How dare he try to take away her pain, when he was adding to it with his vindictive mind games, pretending to be a harbinger of good ― _how dare he, when he wouldn't let her go_. Something was alight within her, asking to be released...but it was dying quickly, and like a flickering candle, blew out. And she recalled the dream...

"Yes, I'm free of her ― but now I'm chained to you instead," she snapped, nearly yanking her hands away when he tried to cover them with his in what was meant to be a reassuring gesture.

The coldest smile grew on his lips, and gesticulating, the food and drink was replaced on the table, and he was by the door. In that instant, Hook truly looked the part of the Dark One: vengeful, self-obsessed, and sinister. "Remember this, Emma: our _relationship_ can be as pleasant or as spiteful as you wish it to be, its duration entirely up to you. The more you impede progress, the longer this will continue. It is your decision alone. Once I have what I want, you can go free."

_But once I give myself to you, I'll never be free. Never never..._

She held her head up proudly, not letting him see how afraid she was. "I'd rather die."

"Oh, that threat may have worked on the Evil Queen, love," he sneered, "but you're forgetting something: I'm the Dark One, and―"

"―the Dark One's dagger is the only way you can die?"

His eyes narrowed. "We're in Neverland. You may have heard that you cannot age here, but that is only part of the whole truth. While death exists, it is no form of release ― you simply become a shadow of yourself, doomed to never find peace. You are never at rest, always searching for the one thing you cannot find."

She called out to his retreating back, "But at least I'd be free."

* * *

In the olden days, his crew was loyal to him for his sake alone, but now they obeyed him because of fear. When Hook walked the main deck now, all scattered so as not to get in his way, and only Mr. Smee was brave enough ― or foolish enough ― to approach him first without being summoned.

_Bloody hell._ That girl was hard to argue with and even more difficult to placate, more stubborn than a mule and more tempestuous than the worst storm. He cursed under his breath, slamming his hook into the wet wood with fury.

Milah had been like gunpowder: dangerous, an explosion waiting to happen. But he had loved her all the same, for her spirit and her courage. This touchy princess, on the other hand...she was a pain in the neck. Was she really worth the trouble and the risk? But a small smile slipped when he pictured how Emma had clung to him as he had carried her, her grin when he had helped her. If she only knew how much those small humane moments cost him...

"Uh, Captain?" Smee was tiptoeing towards him, the act so comical that Hook wanted to laugh. But he couldn't, not when Emma's words still rang in his ears. _I'd rather die...at least then I'd be free._ Why did she always make him feel...so..._weak_? He didn't know her, but she was peeling away his armor the way that Belle had done for Rumplestiltskin.

He turned to face his first mate. "Yes, Mr. Smee?"

The man was biting his lip and twisting that damn red cap of his again, looking as fidgety as a spooked horse. "The men were wondering...if we are to land anytime soon. The siren's song hasn't even begun yet, but the memory of it is already giving them the jitters!"

Hook sighed in frustration, not even listening as Smee recalled the crew's constant complaints and grumbling. The more he thought of Emma's acerbic retorts, the way she had stared at him in revulsion before he had exited his chambers last, the more his temper expanded until it burst.

"Enough!" he shouted at a startled Smee, who immediately fell silent. "This is _my_ ship ― _I_ give the orders! And if any man disagrees, he can go and walk the bloody plank―"

"CAPTAIN!" The man at the crow's nest was gesturing frantically, pointing downward at the black sea. "Mermaids up ahead!"

Hook rushed to the railing, anger forgotten. Dark One or not, mermaids ― well, _sirens_ ― had their own brand of magic, one his could not defeat. This was, after all, Neverland: the bloody island played tricks on you deliberately.

_Damn it._ There were bloody _hundreds_ of them, all swarming below and preparing to make more violent contact with the hull; even though the ship was anchored, it was moving already.

Gritting his teeth, he hesitated before casting a protection spell over the _Jolly Roger_. Striding over to the helm while shouting for the crew to get to their stations and brace themselves, Hook cried out, "Get ready to set sail, mates ― there's bumpy seas ahead!"

* * *

The only mermaids Emma had heard of were in stories ― her mother had always been fond of Ariel, the young mermaid princess who had first traded her extraordinary voice and then life under the sea to be on land with her true love, Prince Eric. She had seen wondrous paintings, of capricious maidens with fins instead of legs, songs of pure gold enchanting those they loved and luring those they hated to their deaths.

Never had she pictured that she would meet dozens in person, the tell-tale song of the siren guiding her mysteriously.

When the ship had suddenly lurched from left to right and back again, she knew something was happening, the shouts and screams of men echoing through the wood. Her father had taken her sailing when she was little, proudly showing her all the parts of the ship and naming every last piece, so the only fear Emma had ever had was being confined below deck, locked in some horrible small room while the ship sunk. _If this was one of those times, she couldn't wait for it to happen._ The door to Hook's chambers had slammed open, and making her decision, she had plunged into the darkness and sought the stairs to the upper deck.

Now she was clinging to the rigging as the ship drove through turbulent waters, the crew and its captain too preoccupied with manning the ropes and the sails in the midst of mermaid waters. However, Emma became confused: though a siren's song was reputed to be fatally seductive, all she could hear was the saddest music she had ever heard, tragedy and death calling her name. Leaning over the railing warily, she peered down.

They were a marvel, their beauty ethereal. They were vicious. They were graceful. They were nothing like she had imagined they would be.

When one group saw her, they paused, continuing their song with more passion than before. _Sing with us, sing with us...mourn with us, mourn with us...for that which can never be, never be..._

She couldn't remember what had prompted it, but she had always kept her singing to herself since she was very young, not daring to reveal it for fear of criticism. But she loved it. Loved it utterly and recklessly. And she loved how the simple act could set her emotions free.

So when the siren's song crept into her heart and made it pulse ― made it clench and spasm and constrict like it hadn't in ages ― she listened. And before she could stop herself, she opened her mouth, took a deep breath ― and her voice began where theirs ended, reaching from the waves out to the heavens.

* * *

**A/N: I forgot to mention before that there's a special graphic/cover for this fic on my Tumblr, if you'd like to see it. **

**Thanks again for reading ― and please, please leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 4 - Killing Us Softly

**A/N: I thought it out a lot, and I've finally decided that this story will have 6 chapters in total ― meaning that there are 2 more to go after this one. Welcome back... **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. The original plot prompt belongs to **_Kazetsume_**, and OUAT belongs to Disney & ABC.**

* * *

_But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,_

_Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;_

_Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking_

_Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -_

_What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore_

_Meant in croaking 'Nevermore.'_

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

She couldn't place what had come over her. One moment she was shocked into silence by the scene before her, and the next...

Passion and sorrow and pain, death and love and life... They were endlessly circling, in unity and dissent in those endless melodies and full-bodied harmonies. Helpless, she could only sing back to them, louder and bolder with every passing minute, her shyness left behind in the shadows as she began to reach out to the owners of those angelic voices, entering the moonlight without hesitation.

Emma felt her entire being tensing with want ― the want for remembrance, the want for release. She was being drawn further and further away from the semblance of who she was, of who she appeared to be...closer and closer she came to baring her soul and letting it fly away.

Wonder of wonders, the mermaids joined in a chorus, following her lead as she sang to the stars, crying for everything she had lost and all she had ever wanted. Her parents, her best friend, her innocence. _Never to be, never to be..._

One of the sirens' leaders, a ghostly vision of beauty with ebony hair, beckoned to her, and Emma sensed that familiar prickling at the corner of her eyes, the siren's song digging deeply into her heart. It was calling out her pretense, daring her to expose the truth of herself to the sea and sky. And oddly enough, she was not afraid. She knew their kind was known for drowning sailors and encouraging shipwrecks, but surely not these mermaids. Through their words and empathy, she disregarded the awestruck expressions of the pirates gathering across the main deck, gaping at the spectacle she was making of herself. She forgot about Hook, and she forgot about her imprisonment. Instead, she breathed in and out, relishing how the unnatural music was transforming her vulnerability into the sweetest and most profound sounds.

She was falling under their spell. But it was not a deadly one. No, she heard them all promise redemption from the guilt that was gnawing at her bones and her blood. She heard them offer to show her the light that had been stripped from her when she had been torn away from her home. To persuade her to keep on living. To give her the most precious and fleeting thing of all.

_Hope._

_There's always hope, Princess._

_Lift up your wings, Swan, and let go. Fly, and be free._

_This is not the end. You are not alone._

She was climbing down the rigging on the hull of the ship, ignoring Hook's outcries and screams for the crew to restrain her. She didn't listen. When her bare feet landed on the bottom of the small dinghy resting below, swaying softly on the muted waves, she took no notice of her surroundings. All she could see were the bright, shining eyes of the sea creatures in front of her, swimming quietly to the boat as they increased the fervor of their song.

Of its own accord, her outstretched hand made its way to the water. It was waiting, just as they were waiting. They had been waiting ― for _her_. The leader mimicked the gesture, and before Emma could even gasp, their hands were pressed together, palm against palm. _Two different worlds...cold next to heat. _Tears caressed her cheeks, and she quelled her worries, trusting completely in the siren's benevolence because she had nothing left to lose.

_And then...then there was the brightest and greatest light. Peace. It was the sun, shining into the dark and frigid air with gratifying warmth. First her heart was empty, its lukewarm state stifling her, and now...it was full to the brim, and her love...all of it...it was rushing back to her. No longer dormant, but fully awakened. And her memories...they were lit anew. Reborn. _

_Too much...too many feelings pillaging her at once. _

_Snow... David... Graham... Bae... Their faces were the guiding compass that would lead her home again. She'd never, never forget them. Neverland might try to take her memories away, but she would be stronger._

_Love could conquer the impossible._

Her eyes opened, and she took in deep breaths as if she had been underwater, realizing that all was silent. Staring into the firm gaze of the mermaid who was still touching her hand, she whispered, "What have you done?" Though their bodies were of the sea, their smiles belonged to the angels. _Just like Hook's..._

"Have no fear, Emma Swan," murmured the siren in a lilting, flute-like voice. "You called out to us, so we came." Her words echoed, loud enough to be heard by the others, but Emma thought that they were meant for her ears alone, as quiet as a small breeze. "Your salvation will find you. Perhaps...perhaps it is closer to you than you know. So keep your love, and guard it well ― 'tis the most precious in all the realms."

"Why?"

Another smiled, dark crimson spirals falling onto her shoulders. "Because your heart is pure. You may not have faith in yourself, but we believe in you. Believe in yourself, Emma. Believe, and hope will find you."

_Fare thee well, Princess...fare thee well...you are one of us..._

The simmering beneath the water was the only sign they had been there, their presence swept away with the night wind. There had been sirens in abundance, and all that remained was the light dancing on the waves, a faint memory of a beautiful lingering melody ― _their_ melody.

She had sung until her soul hurt, strained from its veiled opening, and in the darkness, there was nothing to show for her efforts but the ever present reminder that she had suffered on account of love ― that she was still a prisoner of this ship and its master, unable to escape Neverland.

Was any of this worth its cost? Nothing had changed. _And with a sigh, she folded her wings and hid beneath them, perched on a precipice of pity._

Huddled in the bow of the boat, Emma sought to block out the light, wanting nothing more than to take refuge in what she had gained from the mermaids. Covering her face with her hands, she gritted her teeth in a weak attempt to rein in her shaken emotions and fortify the wall that had protected her from Regina's hatred.

It didn't work. Instead, she broke her one rule ― to never give up ― and gave in, letting her body be wracked by sobs as she re-examined her life. _One life to live and one heart to give._

She wanted to go back in time and change what had been done and said. But she couldn't. _She couldn't._

In the midst of her ill-timed grieving, the only thought that crossed her mind when Hook jumped down into the dinghy, muttering vaguely about not being able to magic her out thanks to the bloody mermaids, was how ashamed she was that he was saving her yet again. She should owe him nothing, but now she owed him everything.

When he proceeded to wrap his arms around her, instructing her to put her hands about his neck while he climbed up to the main deck and treating her overall as if she were a fragile china cup, the darkness crept in.

She wanted to slap his hand away ― and his hook ― and tell him how much she despised him and his _help_. She wanted him to suffer for offering her freedom and then snatching it away. She wanted so much and had so little. She couldn't even fight back ― no, she had to serve and obey. And the sudden build-up of anger in her chest was reaching the point of no return, one that was unleashed when they were on his ship once more.

"Let go of me!" she shrieked, tumbling from his hold in her haste to escape him. At first he looked surprised by her outburst, but in an instant his face hardened and there was fire in his eyes as he gnashed his teeth.

"I just saved your hide from the cursed mermaids!"

She scoffed at him, ignoring his outstretched hand as she pulled herself to her feet. "You want me alive to fulfill your prophecy ― you care less about my welfare."

"If you recall, Princess," he snapped back, "'twas your own fault that you needed my aid in the first place!"

"I was fine without you!" she replied bitingly, wishing he would just leave her alone. However, when she started to leave, turning her back on him, he followed, grabbing her by the arm before she could go below deck.

"Wait ― your performance just now, the singing, _you_ ― what was all that about?" he asked softly, his tone strained. Emma was about to retort scathingly, but the genuine curiosity in his eyes made her pause. He continued, "Lass, you made those bloody fish leave my ship... Just who are you, Swan?"

She cocked her head, looking pointedly down at his grip on her wrist. Without a word, he released her. A gentle breeze rustled her hair, and she remembered she was dressed only in a simple nightgown, her bare feet quickly becoming cold and damp. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she whispered, peering down at the ground.

He lifted her chin, his blue gaze set on her. "Perhaps I would," he murmured, brushing his thumb along her jaw. "It's not everyday that one meets a true siren and an enchantress." He almost sounded..._hopeful_. "Your voice...it's beautiful, love. I have heard nothing like it in all my years. It was like...magic."

She tore her face away from his touch ― it repelled her. "I know nothing of magic, Hook ― nor do I wish to better know _you_. I was safer with the mermaids than I am with you."

There was an uneasy silence, and his uncharacteristically hurt expression made Emma swallow hard.

Judging from the look on his face, it seemed her ungrateful attitude would have a heavy price.

* * *

Annoyingly, his men were reminiscing about the mermaid "miracle" more often than not. They had even dubbed Emma the angel of music, speaking in awed tones about the golden-haired princess whenever daily rations were being distributed or they were playing cards.

Against his will, Hook would stop to overhear Smee whisper to the cook about how Emma touched that siren without being drowned, or his helmsman swear to his mates when they were checking the rigging how the sea had literally glowed when the girl had begun to sing. It was abundantly clear that his crew was quite taken with the talented beauty and her voice, mesmerized out of their wits till they could think or speak of no one or nothing else these days.

To be sure, he would have to concede to being in the same state, seeing and wanting nothing else but Emma. _His_ Emma. A songbird indeed...now he knew why the stories referred to her as such. She was a treasure, and now she was his. He would protect her and care for her, guard her like no other. This was no ordinary girl, but he was certainly no ordinary man.

_I'll never be yours..._

He suddenly felt inflamed, that particular memory and associated image searing his body with hot desire. She still hated him, no doubt about that...but she only needed a little..._persuasion_ to see things differently. To see him differently.

_You will be mine, Emma Swan, because I will win you for my own ― body, heart, mind, and soul. The tides have changed, darling...and I always listen to the sea..._

* * *

True to his word, Hook had made his chambers into a veritable cage ― to keep her safe, he claimed. Hah. _From whom?_ No doubt, it was a golden cage, luxurious and spacious within, but a prison nonetheless. Emma could never leave the room: her meals were brought to her, and during the day, when Hook was busy on deck, she was confined to a monotonous existence of reading, observing the various objects within the captain's quarters, and peeking out the small window to catch a breath of fresh air.

Regina had taught her the feeling of claustrophobia by locking her up in a cell the size of a tiny square, but this was entirely different. Hook also was an expert at manipulation, and right now he was very close to convincing her that if she only saw reason, she would be free. As if being stuck in his bedroom with nothing was do was her choice and not his. As if struggling with her hate and her ― her ― her _other_ feelings for him were _her_ fault.

Every night, she was enclosed by two muscular arms, a warm chest pressed against her back as she attempted to go back to sleep. If she were fortunate, she would remain like that and not look upon Hook's sleeping face. But sometimes, she did ― and what she saw disturbed her more than any nightmare, for in that moment, she could finally look beyond the mask he wore and see _him_. The real him.

She had heard that seeing someone asleep was an intimate act, one reserved for either parents and their children ― or two lovers. And the more she was forced to watch Hook dream, his expression relaxed and pain-free, the more she saw a man, not a beast.

Especially this time.

When she awakened in the middle of the night, it was to find herself freed from the embrace of a restless Hook, who was tossing and turning from side to side. He was mumbling something aloud, but while Emma was drifting back into slumber, he suddenly cried out, curling into the covers until they swallowed him and then abruptly shifting onto his right side so that he was facing her, his choking sobs echoing, his lips begging for a woman who was dead. His misery cut at her ears until she wanted to wrap them up with her blanket and hear nothing.

His forehead was glistening with sweat, his breathing was haggard, and his expression was tormented, as if he were being tortured by his dreams. When he kept shuddering, his brow furrowed from gritting his teeth, she decided that she had had enough. It didn't matter that she despised him, that sleeping in his bed was another way for him to aggravate her. His half-clothed body's proximity to hers wasn't helping matters either.

Emma knew what her mother would do in this situation, even if it was Regina breaking down into tears in front of her. Snow would conquer hate with love. She would be merciful and seek the good. Even if what that witch really deserved was a good, hard slap. Or a stiff punch to the gut.

Carefully gathering Hook into her arms, she couldn't help but grin as he settled naturally against her, his head resting right over her heart as he drew himself into her warmth, his nose innocently brushing her breast. Rocking him to and fro, she was reminded of the lullaby her mother used to sing to her when she couldn't sleep, and unconsciously, she began to hum it aloud. Gradually, his limbs loosened and the tension in his body disappeared, leaving her with a calmly sleeping pirate who was stealing her better judgment away from her.

This was more frightening than dealing with the Dark One. She could handle a fight against evil ― hell, she had co-existed with the Evil Queen and lived to tell the tale ― but she could not fight against something she did not and could not understand. And that was the boyish Hook nestling beside her, pulling her closer to him as he nuzzled her affectionately.

No, she would not be able to return to her own sleep after this. Not tonight.

Reaching out, she tentatively brushed disheveled hair away from his eyes, combing with her fingers strands that had run astray. In this moment, clinging to her, he looked so much like a Lost Boy from those horrid tales about Peter Pan and his band of unwanted orphans ― so hungry for love, that a taste of it would drive him senseless with need. That was why he had fallen so hard for Milah: offered love in return, he gave all he could with a breathless passion. For passion was as much a part of Killian Jones as pain was a part of Captain Hook.

When a soft smile crossed his lips and he sighed, she continued to caress his hair, aware that he was now watching her, his closed lids now open to slits of striking blue. His right hand currently buried under her waist, he unknowingly outstretched his maimed arm to her cheek ― and froze, the spell of their connection broken.

* * *

When he tried to jerk away the remainder of his lost hand from her face ― a part of him she had never seen exposed, as he always managed to hide it away in the cover of night when he removed his hook from its brace and the brace from his arm ― she deftly caught it, touching the end gently. It was truly no sight to be seen...but she understood better than anyone about battle scars.

"You should see the skin on my back ― I'll never be able to wear another open-backed dress again," she commented, massaging his stump with her fingertips.

His mouth was partly open, his gaze full of disbelief and shock at her acceptance. She shrugged, snuggling into her pillow and not daring to look away from his face. "You're not the only one who's gone through physical loss, Hook."

"You pity me?" Hook snarled, his lips set in a firm, furious line. "Don't. I don't want your pity."

When he tried yet again to pull his left arm from her hold, she unexpectedly grabbed his chin to make him look at her. "Hey ― I won't feel sorry for you...if you won't feel sorry for yourself. Deal?"

His eyes narrowed; now he certainly seemed puzzled by her behavior. "Why the sudden interest in me, Swan?"

She couldn't answer that. She couldn't tell Hook that she had felt the urge to comfort him, that she would have wanted that kind of kinship for herself if she were plagued by nightmares. _Which she was._ Instead, she took the coward's way out and disentangled herself from him, getting out of the bed to go and sit in front of Hook's dresser. The mirror there was magnificent, but it only reminded her of Regina and her obsession with that damn thing.

Of course, the man had no scruples about following her until he was next to her on the bench, staring at her reflection in the mirror until she had to stare back at his. There was nowhere to hide, not from his scrutiny.

Happily, Hook was not the kind to sleep in the nude ― though she had a sneaking suspicion that he preferred to but did not out of some respect for her ― but he was still without a shirt, his bare chest revealed by the dawn light streaking through the window. _And it was quite a sight..._ And she was only in this flimsy piece of nightgown, when his skin was almost scorching hers.

She closed her eyes when he pressed his lips beneath her ear, his mouth searching her neck before finding the rest of her face. One kiss after another, until her lips were before his, but there was no push this time and no resistance. Just yearning.

"You don't have to be so strong all the time, love," he whispered, tracing her jawline with his thumb. He leaned in further, resting his forehead against hers. "I won't hurt you, Emma ― so why not try to let me in? I can offer you...so much..."

She looked down at his hand enfolding hers. "But you've already hurt me, Hook ― and how could the Dark One have anything to offer but pain? Pain...and death?"

"First and foremost, I'm a man," he muttered to himself, his blue eyes darkening.

Emma shook her head sadly, biting her lower lip. "Some say we are either good or evil, and others think we are layered in shades of light and dark, bordering on gray. What do you believe?"

He was gaping at her, and the onslaught of this new heat was burning her... Surprisingly, it felt good. _Sinfully, sinfully good._ "What did the mermaids tell you that you find the need to hide it from me?"

Such a bold tactic, changing the subject. She chuckled dryly, "Is that a question or a statement, Captain?"

Ignoring her interjection, he only pulled her closer to him, until they were nearly chest to chest. "Well, I don't need you to share ― you're something of an open book. All mermaids are liars, yet you somehow have taken their counsel to heart. Why, Emma?"

The way Hook said her name...as if he cared... "It was no lie, the light they gave," she replied quietly, desperately trying to avoid his gaze. If he took away her hope...

"Then will you believe me too, when I say I mean you no harm?"

"Why should I?"

He cupped her face with his hand. "Because of this."

She couldn't breathe. He was taking her air, sharing his, exploring her. Gentle and passionate, this kiss was so very unlike their first, a stark opposite, that Emma briefly wondered if she was imagining it all.

After he had offered the corner of her mouth a second kiss, he was slowly undoing the laces of her nightgown, pausing when she tensed. "Try something new, darling ― it's called trust."

Trembling, Emma closed her eyes and prayed her worst nightmare wasn't coming true ― no man had ever wanted her like this, let alone seen her bare** ― **until she felt Hook reposition her so her back was facing him, the top portion of her gown pooling around her waist. His hand caught her hair and swiftly placed it over her shoulder, in the crook of her neck ― and then he was stroking her spine, his fingers floating along its trail.

"Scars or not, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Emma," he huskily intoned, lowering his head to place his warm lips on every mark the Evil Queen's whips and knives had made, his adoring touch washing away the hurt Emma recalled for each one. The gesture was a sweet one...innocent...uplifting... However, she couldn't help but question his motives.

Running her tongue along her own lips, she could still taste him: rum, saltwater, and a hint of something darker and deeper, rich and bold spicy musk. _Oh, he was being bold... _When he left a final kiss on her shoulder, she turned around so that they were sitting across from each other, an undeniable hold keeping them fixated to the cushioned bench.

At first, her face was flushing and burning from shame and embarrassment, but as his eyes never wavered from hers, she grew more confident, softly shaking her hair back so that it lay once more over that which she took pains to conceal. _But exposing herself to him. Hiding nothing._

"_Emma_." He was visibly restraining himself from stretching out his hand to―

She tilted her head to the side, watching as he swallowed hard and clenched his jaw, trying to be stone rather than flesh and blood as he fought his arousal. "Why are you trying so hard to seduce me, Hook?"

In an instant he had roped his arm around her waist and drawn her to him. "Who said I needed to, love?" he murmured, peering pointedly up and down at her chest, rising and falling with every frantic beat of her heart. "Those spellbinding breasts of yours, in all their glory, are telling me a different tale ― and right now, you're doing bloody marvelous in seducing _me_..."

_Damn it. He could tell. Of course he could tell ― he was a three-hundred-year-old pirate who had slept with countless women. _"You're a vulgar pig," she snapped, blushing at the truth in his words.

"Oi, no need for insults, darling," he protested with mock offense. Then his tone grew serious. "'Sides, can you honestly say that I've touched you in any way tonight without your consent?"

She wanted to control how fast she was breathing, the impact all this was having on certain parts of her, but she couldn't. All she could see was that breathtaking face, the thrill of their mutual attraction so powerful that she was asking herself why she wasn't accepting him instead of why she wasn't rejecting him ― again. That was how her voice was not her own, thrumming with a sharp wish.

"You'll have to do better than that," she moaned, weakly chiding herself for not clapping her hands over her mouth and then pushing him away. Since when did she ever _moan_?

Hook smirked at her, but she could feel the rapid stirring of his heart against her own. He was as affected as she was. "How so?"

When she looked up at him through hooded lids, the still foreign haze of lust stunning her speechless, he whispered into her ear, "Do you want me to show you...just what I can do?"

She could recall in perfect detail exactly what he had _done_ to her in her dream, his mouth and hand kindling feelings and emotions and needs she'd never known existed. And now here he was without his namesake, which returned him to being Killian Jones, not Hook. Moreover, the furnace glazing his sight was proving that in this moment, he was only an irresistible man, not the Dark One. No demon or monster could look at her like _this_. Could evil look like he did, compelling and vivacious and beautiful?

He was burning her ― she was sitting here, almost in his lap, and _letting_ him. And the most shocking, confusing thing of all...was that he was presenting her with a choice.

_This was a trap. A pretense. She would do well to avoid it._

_No, this was a neverending well of desire, and she wanted to drink of it, because she was dying of thirst. She could still picture his wicked mouth, discovering her most secret spots...and then the pleasure he brought...overwhelming and startling and consuming... _

There was a time when she would have run from the very idea of yielding to such belittling primal instincts, but after all her trials and the annoyingly persistent will to survive that had kept her alive under Regina's terrorism, she had grown a dominantly defiant, rebellious side, one that was challenging her to accept Hook's proposal. _Go ahead_, it baited. _Taste and see._

"I ― I can't." When she struggled in his embrace, this time he let her go.

"You can't? Or you won't?" he demanded, his hungry leer causing Emma to cover herself up as best she could with her thin nightgown. Rolling his eyes at her efforts, he waved his hand, clothing her instantly in a dark green dress with golden accents.

"Hook..." she pleaded, tempted to reach out for his injured arm. He pulled away from her, leaving her with a sense of inexplicable guilt. Why was she even feeling sorry for Hook, when frankly, he didn't deserve it? She had read his story ― she knew what he was capable of. "I...I can't, because...because I don't love you." She tested her courage and peered up at him, unsettled by the way he was glaring at his reflection in the mirror. "Don't you see? It doesn't matter what my body wants ― my _heart_ doesn't chose you. That makes this all wrong."

Despite his obvious disappointment at being rejected, Hook looked resolute. "A man who doesn't fight for what he wants deserves what he gets."

Emma sighed deeply, not sure why they were having this conversation in the first place. She didn't want him ― she didn't want to have anything to do with him. And yet... "Well, you're the Dark One, and I..." She hung her head. "I'm just a lost girl...who's desperate to get home. A girl who wants her parents badly."

"You're a woman, not a girl," he countered. "A woman who held me in her arms ― of her own free will ― like a bloody lover would."

"No," she gently corrected, "not like a lover would. Like a _mother_ would."

He visibly bristled at that. "Like I stated before, I do not want you to pity me. You know exactly what I want from you, and I will not desist until I have what I want!"

"Then find yourself another savior!" she shouted back. "I've suffered too long for the sake of a lost cause ― I'm not going to do so for another!"

"Are you saying that the prophecy is a lie?"

She paced across the room, pausing once to eye him as he finished dressing himself. "I'm saying that I knew Rumplestiltskin when I was very young, and he knew better than anyone that the future is not set in stone ― I learned from experience."

"From what? You made a deal with the imp that went wrong?" he sneered.

Shaking her head, she grumbled, "That 'imp' was my godfather, and I helped him stop Regina from unleashing a terrible curse."

"A spell that would kill the Dark One on contact?"

Now Emma rolled her eyes. "No..." She rubbed her hands over her shoulders, suddenly feeling cold. "When his only son came back from Neverland, I befriended him and convinced to stay in our land ― to make peace with his father. The result had beneficial after-effects."

Hook's eyes were blazing, and he sounded furious. "_You_ told Baelfire to forgive Rumplestiltskin?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Like you told him about his mother's death at his father's hands! Look, we both had good intentions, but ultimately, the decision was Bae's. To stay or to leave, to forgive or to hate. You wanted to kill Rumplestiltskin," she accused, hardening her voice," and you succeeded. But I wanted to help him. And now, only Baelfire can judge who did more for his happiness."

A flash of movement, and he had her pinned against the wall, his hook pointed again at her neck. "Do _not_ dare to presume what I did for Bae, Princess. I offered him my ship, a life at sea ― to be his guardian and his protector. To be his family, his home, his _father..._as Milah would have wanted... In short, I offered him everything I could possibly give, and he refused to listen. Whatever happened to him next was out of my hands."

She ignored the metal nipping at her skin, fear fleeing in the wake of her childhood memories. "And to show your love, you turned him over to Pan, a damned _demon_ whose image haunts children's nightmares. How bloody _brilliant_ of you, _Captain_," she spat out, recalling the anguish on Bae's face when he had revealed his past to her for the first time.

However, instead of vehemently denying her claims or bursting into flames, Hook gave her a blank, puzzled stare, pulling away from her. "Who were you to Bae, Swan?"

She shrugged halfheartedly. "Some in the kingdom called us 'childhood sweethearts.'" She wanted to laugh at how Hook's countenance blanched when she said that.

"Was it true?" he asked lowly, the jealousy in his eyes drowning her.

After so many years of forgetting, Emma pondered her relationship with the Dark One's son, the way he had always fancied her more than she did him. In the end, he had accepted her feelings for what they were, but he still had told her he loved her. "I cared about him, but he and I discovered long ago that we were not meant to be more than friends." She peered at him acutely. "But why would it matter to you? You said you wanted my body, not my soul."

"Indeed, yet I do not have either," he noted wryly. "Baelfire believed in destiny, but what about you, Princess? Did he persuade you that all is fated to be?"

Emma sighed, rubbing at her eyes. She was exhausted by the morning's events, and now she wanted to drift on an endless sea of blackest hue, with no blue in sight. "No," she yawned, "I don't. We make our own destinies, Hook. It wasn't destined that I would be a prisoner on your ship or your captive. You did that. You made it happen."

"True...but there was no other way, lass ― you must understand." He was adjusting his hook, checking his scabbard and tightening his belt.

She shook her head sorrowfully. "If there's one thing I've learned very well, it's that there's always another way."

* * *

It had taken all of Emma's persuasive skills to get Hook to agree to her visits above deck. She had pleaded for a ray of sunshine to light her face, to smell the ocean, to see the beauty of Neverland. Hook had grimaced and excused the landscape, stating that it was cursed with Pan's darkness and unfit for her eyes. Well, she had not accepted "no" for an answer, and for the time being, he was letting her be. She had stood firm, and now she was standing by the bow of the _Jolly Roger_, drinking in the sight before her.

She found it strange that the crew had any work to do at all, considering that they were pinned in the same space and time, drifting on a boundless sea with no opponents or storms. It was one explanation why they were sitting around most of the day, drinking grog or playing card games non-stop. In a word, they were bored. And bored pirate crews usually meant trouble. But Emma no longer cared about her safety. She had stopped caring long ago.

Still, there was no need to worry in the first place, seeing as most of Hook's men were either in awe or frightened of her. A woman who spoke to mermaids must seem like such a danger, Emma mused to herself. But didn't they know? It had been the sea calling. She had simply answered it.

"Please, Miss, but could I ask you something?"

She turned to see a boy of no older than fourteen staring at her, his expression composed partly of admiration, curiosity, and fear. He must be a cabin boy. Trying to muster a smile, she replied, "What's your name?"

He blushed, wringing his hands nervously. "David."

A pang of hurt struck her heart, and she faltered. "David...that is...a strong name," Emma stammered. "Well, David, what do you wish of me?" He was only a boy, so he couldn't possibly understand any of this. Maybe he wasn't innocent, but he was ignorant. He didn't even know who she was.

He looked up at her shyly through his eyelashes. "Are you an angel?"

The absurdity of such a question should have made her burst into laughter, but the memory of Hook's words echoed back to her, and she found David's naïve conclusion charming rather than daft.

"I'm as human as you are," she explained kindly.

He didn't look convinced, his brown locks shifting as he shook his head. "Only a mermaid ― or an angel ― could have sung like you did that night we were attacked. Why, even the Cap'n mentioned that―" Suddenly he fell silent, snapping his jaw shut.

She whispered, "He mentioned what?"

David peered down at his scuffed shoes. "He thinks you're an angel ― he told all of us so, that you were above us and we were far beneath you, that we were unworthy to even speak of you. Captain Hook," he gulped, "doesn't lie."

"Oh, he lies," she murmured to herself, staring out at the velvet waves. She loved being at sea, but she hated being chained to this ship. _Her new prison._ Hook was hiding somewhere for now, but every morning and every night, she was forced to be in close quarters with him.

He had seen her bathe, he had seen her dress ― just like he had promised ― but he had said nothing, only gaping at her like he had never seen the likes of women before. _Not at all probable for the likes of him._ And in time, she had adjusted accordingly and done what she had learned best in the past five years ― she was completely ignoring him, silent and withdrawn during these ridiculous, humiliating spectacles. For when had she been a stranger to humiliation?

"You know," David began hesitantly, "that night, when you...you know...I could have sworn I heard my mum calling to me. She used to lullaby me to sleep when I was little, but that was so long ago I couldn't possibly 'member that...but that song you sang...it reminded me of her."

She didn't want to talk about it. "You left her for a life at sea?"

He hung his head miserably. "Nay...the Cap'n was good 'nough to take me on at Tortuga...we had a hard life, me and me mum, but it was better than nothing, and when she... I had nowhere to go."

"You're an orphan," she stated softly, finally seeing the traces of hardship and suffering in his eyes when he gazed at her directly. Was she growing so cold inside that she could no longer acknowledge the pain of others? "But you won't join Pan?"

David scoffed. "I've not been abandoned, and I know exactly where I belong. It's just that..." His features softened. "When I heard your voice, I saw my mother again...even if it was just a glimpse. And the darkness that covers Neverland...well, it doesn't seem so dark anymore."

Emma smiled sadly, the faces of all she loved glowing in the fading light. Now that she was singing all the time, she could see them. She sang to herself when Hook was fast asleep, a wordless tune that became a mournful lament. She sang to the walls a hopeful litany when she was alone, with only wood and air and spirits to hear it. And when she was outside, her hair whipped by the coursing winds, she sang deep within her heart, where only her beloveds could listen. Maybe they could really hear her. But no one else would.

The music was there. And it was only for her and for them. No one else.

But David was looking at her imploringly, and she caught a glimpse of her father in him, his warm smile and gentle eyes. This time, the song she conjured sprang forth from her lips of its own accord, not content to settle in silence, unheard and lonely. The boy was not asking her for anything. But somehow, she was helpless to give this tiny piece of her soul to him, a stranger. Had this mystical land instilled its wonder of dreams in her so fervently?

It was for all of them. It was for the abandoned and the rejected, those in solitude longing for respite. It was buried deep beneath the earth, wandering restlessly. It was a chant to the sea. Her song had words, but the sound behind them had more meaning. And naturally, the notes more than answered for themselves.

Barely noticing her surroundings or her audience, Emma sang aloud for the second time. And as she did, all of Neverland stopped...and listened.

_Graham... He had been the handsome, gentle captain of the Evil Queen's royal guard, always willing to offer a kind word and extra rations whenever he had passed by her cell. It had started with simple greetings, swiftly becoming conversations that lasted for hours. He had even excused her guards, saying he would oversee her cell. Out of all of them, he was the only humane one in the castle._

_One day, he came nearly in tears, uttering nonsense about talking wolves and puzzling dreams. Against Regina's every command, he had opened the cell, finding comfort in Emma's arms. And for the first time in her life, she wondered what it was like to fall in love._

_That was the day he revealed that Regina had taken his heart._

_Soon, their meetings became more frantic, his need to speak to her overcoming the Evil Queen's influence. It didn't matter if he was Regina's lover or her willing slave ― Emma understood. She had made him so, and he had no choice. She, however, had only been saved from the same fate ― her soul sold to the witch ― because her heart could not be taken._

_Stolen glances, fond caresses, innocent embraces. For an instant, she came alive again, freed from the black horrors of the years spent in captivity. And she liked to think Graham felt the same._

_Then...the unspeakable happened. One moment he was cleaning her wounds with soft cloth and fresh water, smiling at her like she was his salvation. He said she made his heart beat again, that she revived what he believed to be lost. And when his mouth found her own in the sweetest of kisses, she returned it tentatively, unsure if this was from mere gratitude or true affection._

_It was from both. They were both lost in the dark, and yet, they had found each other. And just when she had begun to respond to his gesture, he started to convulse in her arms, his last breath a whispered "thank you."_

_He remembered his past. He found his soul again. And now, even though her tears and heartbreak were part of the price, he was finally free._

_His heart belonged to himself again, now and forevermore._

_But hers, on the other hand...well, part of it would always be his. _

Slowly, the music came to its end, and Emma opened her eyes to see the entire crew gathered on the main deck, staring at her as if she were a goddess come down from heaven. Flushing, she sidled away from David, who was giving her the widest, happiest grin she'd ever seen. In fact, this contentment was visible on all the men's faces, from Mr. Smee down to the fiercest looking swordsman. What had she done, that they were so transformed by one song?

* * *

Drawn from his rum-induced reverie, Hook's eyes snapped open.

_That voice... _ It had to be her again.

Pummeling into his desk and then staggering to the door, he glanced one more time at the chaos within his chambers before disappearing in a fog of magic, sure of his destination.

He had to see her. To hear her. To be near her.

This distance, this riff between them... Enough was enough. She may have ordered their game of wills to be at a pause, but he was more than ready to move the next piece across the board.

Though a pirate for centuries, Captain Hook had found the most rare creature of all in his hold: a beautiful lass with hair spun of gold, one who was brave and strong and sharp-tongued. _Emma._ She was his winsome bird, her song able to fathom his darkened, hardened heart.

She was his temptation, the answer to his redemption, his one salvation. She was his second chance. _She would be his undoing._

The Dark One was caught in Emma Swan's subtle snare, but this was far from over. He would make sure she would fall into her own trap and know his internal conflict, the war waging inside him whenever her scent filled his senses and her presence clouded his mind.

The time for second-guessing was done.

He had decided. _He couldn't let her go._

She would stay with him forevermore.

* * *

**A/N: Ah, Gremma...it was lovely while it lasted. Anyway, the next (penultimate) chapter will be very interesting... And it will hurt. A lot. You have been forewarned.**

**Review?**


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